


Once Upon a Dream

by Bidawee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecurity, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bidawee/pseuds/Bidawee
Summary: That day, Travis heard--offhand--from his noble acquaintances that someone had discovered the location of the castle where The Prince sleeps. It starts a sprint--fuelled by his own desperation--over the moorland on the back of his horse. The only coordinates he follows are the landmarks they spoke of, marking a trail that ends at the base of the stone turret.He spends the whole journey hoping that he’s not too late; that someone else didn’t get there first.
Relationships: Travis Dermott/Zach Hyman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> more detailed warnings in the endnotes!

That day, Travis heard--offhand--from his noble acquaintances that someone had discovered the location of the castle where The Prince sleeps. It starts a sprint--fuelled by his own desperation--over the moorland on the back of his horse. The only coordinates he follows are the landmarks they spoke of, marking a trail that ends at the base of the stone turret.

He spends the whole journey hoping that he’s not too late; that someone else didn’t get there first. 

He wastes no time when he first enters the palace, approaching the winding staircase and taking the steps two at a time to increase the pace he’s moving at. He’s not tricked by the passages that try to lead him astray, showing him rooms with deep colour and shape that are obvious in their disguise. Though they are meant to lead the unsuspecting into a trap, Travis is not foolish.

He continues onward, to a darkened corridor on the west wing. The windows are in a state of disrepair, with fingerprints on the shards of stained glass that blanket the floor like an ornate rug. His boots crush the shards as he twists and turns his body, trying to avoid the larger pieces in what would look to an outsider like a form of dance. He minds the streaks of brown and red that stain the tiles an off-white; the evidence of those who walked these grounds before him.

Finally, he reaches the room and pushes open the door. The mood changes considerably: brightening. 

Travis feels his breath come short. The shiny baubles and tinkering swirls of colour are all eyes that stay on whoever enters, as voyeurs to their desire. The whole room is slathered in gold colouring that would almost make it appear as though it were a nursery or some other, kinder, place. The room doesn’t mirror the many protrusions and forms of hostile architecture that sit just outside its doors; the many more tricks that Travis was set to avoid.

At the centre of it all is the large bed, draped in a curtain that hangs from the ceiling and away from the windows and doors--any touch from the outside world. The bed is as ancient as it is glamorous and gleams in the rays of the sun. Travis steps into a beam, feeling his skin prick as if it’s about to peel.

He pushes away the translucent curtain--a beautiful thing in a room full of beautiful things--and reveals the prince’s face to him. It’s a face so beautiful that it ought to be veiled. 

Prince Zachary is sleeping on his side, one arm kept close to his stomach and the other sprawled out behind his head. Travis unfurls his left hand for him and holds it, gently lowering himself to the bed. It’s plush and therefore comfortable. He could sit here for hours, admiring.

He pushes back Zachary’s hair with one hand, picking at the features of his face with his eyes. Everything is as it was when he left it. He processes that thought over and over again until he understands. His heart stops trying to break through his chest.

He gets paranoid, sometimes, when he comes back from scouting and the blankets look dishevelled or Zachary on his back--things that could’ve been Travis or just as well been an intruder. Or Zachary, alive and awake.  _ Knowing _ . Bound for escape.

He extinguishes those thoughts as soon as he possibly can. He knows otherwise they eat him up inside and leave him to rot. It isn’t like Zachary was ever a theatrical person--he wouldn’t go through the trouble of trying to trick him. He’s kind. With four brothers and the right to a throne, you have to be.

And right there, at his bedside, sits Zachary’s crown. It’s the same crown he’s been wearing since he was very, very young. It would always fall off of his head, Travis muses. Otherwise, it’s made in his image. It’s the only object that breaks the immersion of what he’s done. It reminds him that Zachary belongs to someone else.

He remembers never being able to catch up when they were children. Zachary, on his longer legs, could go so many places that Travis could only dream of. He had with him a subtle artistry and was quick to master any arithmetic or language that was presented to him. Travis was horribly average in comparison; it could’ve been the reason why he wasn’t chosen for the sorceress’ curse.

When Prince Zachary was sent away, he was at an age where his parents believed him to be too ignorant of magic to be capable of understanding why his friend was leaving behind his family, birthright, and everything he ever knew. When Travis was young, he remembered the balls and dances that connected the quad spectrum of kingdoms together. They were places of joy and colour, rich in culture. Those memories have no tangible edge now and in their place sit dark and decrepit hours spent around a table discussing political restructuring and the jargon that a young Travis couldn’t wrap his mind around.

But more important than all that, he remembers hearing from a traveller that visited his kingdom about a prince a few days’ journey away; the subject of a spell that was fresh in his mind. After all, he had memorized the words to it, down to the last verse where the conditions of freedom were set. 

He remembers feeling Zachary’s warm breath on his cheek when he first lifted him up, now no longer a young boy but a man in his own right, a true successor to his father’s throne. He had jumped through danger of every kind to be the first to claim him. Now, Zachary could be freed, with a simple kiss on the lips.

Travis tells himself that he didn’t kiss Zachary there because he was in danger. His captor could return or any means of challenger could approach and he only had the foresight to remove him from the situation while he had the choice.

He didn’t kiss Zachary on the ride back because the terrain was rocky and he was more concerned with keeping him safe and on the horse than he was waking him up and explaining all that’s happened to him, who he is, and why he’s his one true love.

He didn’t kiss Zachary when he arrived at the palace grounds because word would get back to Zachary’s father and what if he didn’t approve of Travis, much less the public display that would irrevocably tie their kingdoms together? Out of respect, Travis withheld himself.

He didn’t kiss Zachary when he placed him in what was formerly the Queen’s bedroom because he was afraid. 

It’s why he doesn’t kiss him now, either. Even though it’s only a matter of time before someone gets here before he can.

Because what if he isn’t his love? What if Travis is meant to be his saviour and nothing more? The thought of it haunts him. If Zachary doesn’t wake up, then all those years of looking out, of praying for him, and working his hands to the bone just for the hope of reuniting with him in the forest--when Travis is in disguise and Zachary is barefoot and they’re so deeply in love--is all for nought. 

The alternative is just as bad. Zachary must be able to hear, even in his slumber; would have heard Travis hesitate. What if he doesn’t want him? What if he prefers to find his own King, in some faraway land where Travis is just a speck by comparison?

The longer he waited the more those insecurities continued to fester. Anyone could swoop in and talk about their rich history with him, leaving Travis obsolete. He can’t place a thought that’s more horrifying than that. He’d rather not know. For although Travis loved Zachary long before many suitors even knew he existed, it’s repressed by the thorny years of adolescence and the many nameless figures Zach probably spoke to and interacted with--maybe even lusted for. Travis is not a serious contender, not when he held his feelings close to his chest; when any hope of reciprocation was dream-like.

There have been many suitors that have heard the rumours that seeped out from the palace walls and assumed responsibility; barging through the doors with hell on their heels and breaking down doors, hoping to find the one where the sleeping prince rests. One came too close for comfort and made his way into the room, about to pull back the curtain when Travis found him and slit his throat from ear to ear. Not one was able to leave without being added to the mass grave outside, the source of Travis’ growing infamy.

It hasn’t just killed people but treaties, alliances, and friendships. Travis nowhere near resembles the young boy that was entrusted with the throne, or even the young man that swore to find Zachary and bring him home a few seasons ago. As the castle walls close in, he finds himself paying less attention to the underbelly of political contention that’s out to behead him.

There will be no return to form, no forgiveness. This room will be his coffin. Gilded. Cold. Inanimate.

He’s not sure how he feels about that. Instead of thinking, he stretches out his body and lies beside Zachary. Hands linked together, he pushes himself beside him, basking in the heat that’s emanating from his body. Zachary looks like he hasn’t aged a day since Travis found him.

Travis uncurls the fingers on his free hand, cupping Zachary’s cheek. They’re breathing the same air, in the same bed, in the castle that’s as much Zachary’s as it is his. Zachary doesn’t have to wake up to reign over Travis’ heart nor hold the same level of importance that makes people want him. 

He will never hunger. He will never dream. He will never wake, so he can never die. He remains here, swaddled in innocence and spoiled with the love that Travis gives and gives, as a sort of apology.

Travis leans forward and gently kisses him on the top of his forehead. And the magic in the room wrinkles, as if it’s about to be revealed, before being smoothed out by Travis’ guided hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I use the kidnapping tag loosely. Travis is meant to be the one to attempt kissing Zach to wake him up "sleeping beauty" style, but opts not to because he's afraid and insecure about his own social image and the few times he interacted with Zach when they were younger. Because he thinks he's not true love's first kiss, he steals Zach away and keeps him in an eternal rest so that he is never faced with the truth that he's not the one. Any suitors that try to break into the castle and free Zach are murdered.
> 
> I kinda had fun with this! Let me know if I need to tag anything else.
> 
> come talk to me on my [tumblr](https://cursivecherrypicking.tumblr.com/)


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